


Who needs coffee in an apocalypse?

by Tattler



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Halloween, M/M, Stiles is not a morning person, Stiles needs coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 19:14:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2439779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tattler/pseuds/Tattler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The man – zombie – in front of him has blood oozing down his face, and chunks of what Stiles assumes are brains in his scruff. A sizeable flap of skin has been peeled away from his cheek to reveal gooey flesh, and his shirtless torso shows his entrails. Stiles knew that a zombie apocalypse was no laughing matter (unlike Scott), he's just hoped he'd be more awake for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who needs coffee in an apocalypse?

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little one shot based on one of the au prompts posts on tumblr, 'I was unaware that there was an organized zombie crawl going on and I didn't realize you were in a costume and I screamed in your face because I truly thought I was facing a zombie invasion'.  
> Just thought I'd give it a try.

Stiles is not a morning person, it goes without saying to any and all that even vaguely know him. He’s got very limited function before that first sweet delicious cup of coffee, and of course, this morning his and Scott’s precious coffee machine died a painful, fiery death. Stile’s brain isn’t functional enough to figure out how that happened, all he knows is he has to leave the flat for his vital caffeine hit. So after his silent (sobbing) mourning of the coffee machine, Stiles gathers all his energy, and shuffles to the door, eyes still at slits he grabs his scarf and makes an attempt to wrap it around his neck. It falls limply to the floor. He whimpers.  
“Stiles?” Scott’s voice carries from behind him and he promptly trips over his own feet, crashing down next to his scarf. “Are you okay?”  
“Cassie died.” Stiles mumbles, almost incoherently, luckily for him Scott is fluent in Stiles.  
“Oh god no, and you’re gonna attempt to go and get coffee?” Scott’s voice is gentle, as if talking to a panicked animal. Stiles head bobs up and down jerkily. “Do you want me to go for you?” A shake this time. “Okay if you’re sure.” Scott smoothly pulls Stiles back onto his feet where he sways unsteadily, his eyes just slits. He then carefully wraps Stile’s scarf around his neck and grabs his wallet from the side, pushing it into his hands. Stiles murmurs appreciatively and shuffles out of the door. 

The nearest Starbucks is just around the corner from Stile’s and Scott’s apartment so it doesn't take long for Stiles to shuffle there. He’s vaguely aware of people around him, a few also shuffling, and a fair few moaning sounds, but he’s not awake enough to process it.  
Luckily for him his regular barista, Erica, is at the counter and he just has to look pleadingly at her before she laughs and gets started making his regular order. Stiles zones out until she nudges him, holding back a laugh and she gently pushes the cup into his hands.  
Stiles takes a tentative sip, testing the temperature before taking a larger gulp. He sits down at the table for a moment, waiting for the caffeine to kick in. Then, when he evaluates himself to be awake enough to shamble back to his apartment, he levers himself up out of his chair and heads for the door.  
Stepping out into the fresh air Stiles almost immediately bumps into someone, glances up to apologise, and screams like a sissy, dropping his coffee. The man – zombie – in front of him has blood oozing down his face, and chunks of what Stiles assumes are brains in his scruff. A sizeable flap of skin has been peeled away from his cheek to reveal gooey flesh, and his shirtless torso shows his entrails. Stiles knew that a zombie apocalypse was no laughing matter (unlike Scott), he's just hoped he'd be more awake for it.  
“Sorry man, I didn't mean to scare you, please calm down.” He registers vaguely as he thrashes to escape the grip the zombie now has on his wrists, panicking wildly. Then, it slowly filters into his brain that zombies can’t talk, at least in every type of media he’s ever seen. Plus, the guy’s hands are warm on his wrists, and zombies would lose all their body heat.  
He can hear people chuckling at him as he studies the person in front of him, realising he’s just humiliated himself by screaming at a person with very artfully done stage makeup. If he could just go die now that would be great.  
“You can’t go die now, it’s not actually an apocalypse.” The man laughs, and Stiles realises that he’s still holding his wrists.  
“Oh god I said that out loud? Jesus what is with me today?” He notices that a whole crowd of ‘zombies’ are walking down the streets and he remembers Scott telling him about the organized ‘zombie crawl’. “First my coffee machine breaks, then I forget about the zombie crawl, drop my coffee, and scream at a stranger – humiliating myself in the process. Has anyone told you that your makeup is amazing? Very realistic. Well obviously, I did think you were an actual zombie. Oh god, please stop me talking.”  
The man laughs again, “Thanks my sister works as a makeup artist, she zombified me. And, seeing as I made you drop your coffee, I think it’s only fair I buy you a new one.”, he pushes the door to the Starbucks back open and gestures for Stiles to go in, raising an eyebrow. “I’m Derek by the way.”  
“Stiles.” He replies with a small smile as he walks back into the shop he’d literally just exited.  
They approach the counter to see Erica doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down her face as she clutches her stomach. “Erica are you okay?” Derek asks tentatively, and Stiles does a double take – he knows Erica?  
Erica composes herself, barely, “That was hilarious, oh my god, only you could get a date after terrifying someone while dressed as a zombie Derek.” She starts making their drinks, chuckling and occasionally muttering, “as a zombie” under her breath.  
And that’s how Stiles finds himself organizing a proper date with Derek, for when he’s not covered in fake blood, with his entrails poking out.


End file.
